


Twine

by yeaka



Series: Lions [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nesting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-23 23:20:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21089483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Nyx nests.





	Twine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MistressOfLions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressOfLions/gifts).

> A/N: For MistressofLions for a donation to the African Wildlife Foundation.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Nyx can’t remember the last time he built a nest. At first, it feels wrong to even think about, but then the instincts come back full force, worse than ever, like they’ve been pent up for years and are now spilling over. As soon as Regis leaves, Nyx is off the bed. 

He walks quickly to the closet, telling himself _no_ but wrenching it open anyway. He takes a moment just to _breathe_, because all of Regis’ clothing smells of him, and that first whiff is overwhelming. Then Nyx is pulling things off the hangers two at a time. He tries not to take the more expensive robes and suits. He goes for plain shirts and trousers instead, things he’s never seen Regis wear, probably because he’s never had the privilege of seeing his king in just every day life. He doesn’t want to sully anything too royal. His own glaive’s wear is already in a pile beside the bed: too hot to wear. Everything’s too _hot_. His skin feels like it’s on fire. But he needs more fabric anyway.

Stripped down to just his boxers, Nyx fills his arms with Regis’ clothes. He brings it over to Regis’ bed, where he rips the blankets back and stuffs them against the end. Regis has a grand four-poster that’s twice as big as Nyx’s single mattress at home. It should fit both of them easily. He has to duck his head when a sudden wave of sorrow and neediness rips through him. _What if Regis doesn’t come back._ Nyx is stronger than that. He grits his teeth and tells himself he’ll be okay. Better, even. He shouldn’t be burdening his king like this. Then coherency slips through his fingers, and he’s back to mindlessly gathering materials. 

There are various throw pillows around the room—two in an armchair, three against the lounge, one atop a stool. Nyx collects them all. He finds a cupboard of spare linens, but they’ve obviously been recently washed, and they don’t smell enough like their owner. So Nyx leaves them. He realizes that the couch has a removable cover and stops himself just short of tearing it off. 

With just the blankets, clothes, and pillows, Nyx begins his work. He builds the rounded walls of his nest like his own personal fortress—like this new mission is every bit as important as the rest of his work: he needs to make a stronghold tough enough to keep the Empire out. He weaves the different fabrics together and ties them tight, then lines the walls with pillows. It’s already too much insulation; the sheets keep sticking to his bare and sweaty legs. He keeps building anyway. Once Nyx has a task, he doesn’t stop until it’s done. 

He’s only just finished the first inspection when the door pushes open. Regis steps inside, and Nyx is immediately straightening, back going rigid, eyes piercing across the room. His chest constricts, thighs clenching—he _needs_ Regis more than he’s ever needed anything. But he stays warily perched inside his nest, ready to pounce.

Regis smiles when he sees Nyx. He closes the door behind himself and comes forward with grace and dignity—two things that have completely left Nyx behind. The cane is already gone, but Nyx knows Regis doesn’t require it for short distances, and perhaps the alpha in him is overcoming it: Nyx’s pheromones are speaking to his, building him up. Regis eyes the nest with gentle amusement as he announces, “I’ve spoken with Cor and Drautos. You have leave for the next few days.”

Nyx rasps, “I don’t need time off, Your Majesty.” He probably does, but he can’t face it. He _always_ pushes through. Regis’ expression softens. 

“You needn’t always be so strong,” Regis murmurs, low and powerful. His advice rumbles through Nyx like a command. Nyx can do nothing but close his eyes and bow. He bends all the way down to the mattress, his forehead brushing the sheets. 

When he uncoils again, his body’s screaming.

His nest is almost perfect. But it’s still missing one thing. 

He needs an alpha, and he’s already pledged himself to Regis. He knows it’s horribly inappropriate, but he still opens his arms. 

Regis benevolently comes into them. He kicks off his shoes and climbs onto the bed, letting Nyx drag him down. Regis is completely overdressed, done up in a fitted black suit with gold trim that makes him look like the perfect specimen that he is. Nyx is more grateful than Regis will ever know.

Nyx curls up around Regis, hot and sticky and already useless. He pants and squirms, rutting against Regis in places, hands touching everywhere but always holding on. Regis pets back along the shaved side of his head: a touch that’s so incredibly soothing. It gives Nyx a beacon of calm amidst the raging madness. With Regis tenderly stroking him, Nyx eventually falls asleep, truly content for at least that brief moment in time.


End file.
